


Antebellum Within

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27509755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: One knock.....Two knock.....Three knock
Relationships: Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Antebellum Within

_One knock.....Two knock.....Three knock_

And Mick will awkwardly fall to his knees like a man at prayer, his fingers skillful as he used a hairpin, crooked yet straight, to get the door open in the only way that will seem possible. 

The door will creak open, and it'll be slow, tentative, unsure. Mick will use the wall to pull himself up, and ignore the pain sprouting in his lower back, because he will be damned before he lets himself fall down and stay down. 

The room will be dark, and smell like booze, smoke, and vomit. Mick will have to avoid tripping over clothing or bottles or whatever the fuck will be on the ground, and the journey will be harrowing, a trip throughout the darkest corners of hell. 

"Nikki." Mick will say, not patient enough for the kindness needed to deal with such things. "Nikki, I'm here, so don't freak out." He will cover his mouth because that's a smell combination that nobody will ever get used to, and creep throughout the room that seems so much bigger than it actually is when its actually lit up. Instead, it will be dark, and not even the sun that will be peeking through the curtains will penetrate that darkness, because it isn't entirely physical, just like the world was round, and that Mick Mars was born to have been made too old to have to deal with this shit. 

But Mick will deal with it anyways, because it is his job, to pick up those little pieces and put them back together again. It's a tough job, but only he knows how to do it. 

Mick's legs will hit the bed, and a muffled groan will come from beneath the mound of blankets. It will be faint and endlessly quiet, but Mick will recognize the tone as easily as he would recognize his own face. "Alright." He will whisper to himself. 

He will strip down, removing his jacket and shirt, boots and socks, leaving him in only a pair of pants. Mick will peel the covers aside, and carefully slip into bed, like a nonexistent figure in some twisted story. 

Nikki's hair will be a matted mess of sweat and hair spray, and his makeup will be smeared all over his face. He will be both hot and shivering compulsively, and tossing between restlessness and exhaustion. "No, go 'way, Mick." Nikki will mumble, burying his face in his hands, legs drawn up and bunched around in the blanket. 

"Too late." Mick will say, and he will wrap his fingers around a familiar, skinny arm so that their chests are pressed together, heartbeats blending into a messy cacophony of life and death, hanging by the edge, but slowly falling. "How long's it been?" He asks, reaching up and entangling his fingers in Nikki's tangled hair. 

"Two days." Nikki will say, his eyes somehow glazed and hopelessly alert at the same time. He won't be able to stop moving. "God, it's fucking _killing_ me." He's going to sound close to tears, but none will come. 

Mick will remind Nikki that Tommy was out searching, and that the pain will end soon, but, for now, there will be nothing that can be done. Nikki is in pain, and despite his own that was coursing through his veins, Mick would gladly take that pain, too. Nikki will bury his face against Mick's neck, jumping between shivering and sweating, falling asleep and then waking up five milliseconds later. It's going to be hell in every form imaginable, but Mick will hold him through the feverish dreams, and when Nikki finally falls quiet, and his odd mutters fade into a raspy breathing, Mick will look up the ceiling, and wonder why he always fell in love with the freaks. 

But he wouldn't change it for the world, and that said more than Mick would ever admit. 


End file.
